


Initial Enquiries

by flandersmare



Series: Lead On [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BAMF Lake-Towners for supporting cast, Bard is a guide dog instructor, Bardlings - Freeform, Barduil Big Bang 2015, Bilbo and Thorin are dogs, Dis is overseeing this mess, First Meetings, Gen, Guide Dogs AU, M/M, PTSD, PTSD in animals, Tauriel is at the end of her rope, Thorin gives the best cuddles, Thranduil is blind, character blindness, dogs and puppies, elements of ptsd, just go with it, less than stellar first meeting, lots of them - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flandersmare/pseuds/flandersmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a good few years now, Bard Fletcher's life has comprised of his family, his work and his dogs. And to be fair he could roll all three into one big category. He's a guide dog instructor; working with visually impaired people, helping them find their independence, freedom and confidence again and the special dogs that help them to achieve it. He loves his work, the team he works with and it keeps him busy. He tells himself he’s not lonely. How can he be? With his life full of friends and his three kids, living breathing blessings that they are.<br/>Then Sigrid takes a call and Bard meets a man with nothing but an empty void around him. One that he seems determined to stop anyone from crossing.<br/>When does it stop being duty and start being something else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - Kick-started because I was a fool and I signed up for the Barduil Big Bang 2015 whilst, well not drunk, but sleep-deprived and maybe drunk on feels. Now, the Bang did stipulate that entries were to be completed works, but this puppy got away from me. Clifford the Big Red Dog puppy got away from me. That and the fact I was writing this whilst backpacking and working around New Zealand mean it is far from over. And also, trying to research and save stuff whilst living of the wifi you can steal is not easy. So this is part one of a series. Hopefully this means I'll still be able to play again next time.  
> Love and eternal thanks to Laura, 'carnivaluate' on tumblr, for cheer-leading, beta-ing and being all round awesome. She picked my shivering little plot bunny out of the line-up and has make a thing of beauty.  
> Her art for the last scenes of Chapter 4 can be found on her tumblr here: http://carnivaluate.tumblr.com/post/117269128491/two-illustrations-for-the-first-part-of  
> Likewise, love and hugs to 'Scifive/dodgylogic', A03 and tumblr respectively, for encouragement, making sense of the initial dyslexic mess and 'READING IT IN THE FACE', complete with 'smooshy dodges'.  
> 

"Stop where you are this instant! I don't care who you are; state your business and sign in."

"Morning Percy."

"Oh, it's you, Bard."

Bard grinned at the immediate change in tone of voice as he held the reception door open. Thorin brushed through with a grumble, shaking off the late December sleet as he went. The spray caught Bard in full, even as he stepped forward towards the desk. He jostled the folders he was carrying in one arm to the other to join the hold-all swinging from the crook of his elbow, and took the pen that Percy was holding out to him.

“Ah, thanks.” Bard signed the register and propped his arms on the desk top. "So can I ask what's got you all 'Cereberous' today?"

"Mayor Masters and his secretary are paying a visit," Percy all but grit out.

"Oh Gods, what does he want?"

"To see Dain."

Bard frowned. "But Dain's out this afternoon, isn't he? He's qualifying Beorn's class."

"Precisely," Percy said with a slightly dangerous grin, "which is why he's currently in with Dis."

"Oh Gods!"

Bard's half hearted groan was cut short as the door at the other end of the reception banged open. Thorin scrambled to his feet from where he'd settled among the chairs by the window, the yelp of alarm morphing into a guttural growl upon seeing who was making the noise.

The honourable (and the irony of that title never failed to tickle Bard) Mayor Masters of Laketown swept into the reception with an air of sneering anger and the smell of wet tweed.

"Wretched woman," Masters snarled, coming up short when he noticed Bard stood in front of the desk. Alfridson, his secretary stroke PA stroke 'Yes' man, ran into the back of him. “Bard," Masters said, drawing out the name ’til it was an irritable exhalation.

"Mayor," Bard said pleasantly, inclining his head. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"You and your beasts have gone too far this time, Fletcher," Alfridson's weasley little face crested around the girth of his employer like a harvest moon. “We have photographic evidence this time! They shouldn't be allowed out," he added, glaring at Thorin who had moved to Bard's side. "Filthy creatures."

There was no immediate response from Thorin to suggest that he'd even heard Alfridson. But as his top lip started to curl back slowly, revealing teeth turned ivory with age, it was clear he'd gotten the intent. Alfridson recoiled. “See!” he gibbered, "See! Vicious, evil mutts the lot of them!"

"Really Mister Mayor," Bard sighed, bored with the pair of them. "Our work partners are well trained and civil. Would you do us the courtesy of ensuring the same? I mean, our guys actually behave when they are let off the lead.”

Percy snorted from behind the desk. Alfridson let out an indigent squeak, but the Mayor had entered that zen state that so many people in positions of questionable authority sometimes achieved; the state where if you said something they didn't like or if you didn't fit’ with their view of the world, you were simply painted out of the frame. He flounced out, sparing not a word for Percy or Bard, Alfridson scuttling along in his wake.

“Why, good day to you too, sir. Think nothing of it. Please call again." Bard waved airily at their retreating backs as they passed the windows looking out onto the street. The sleet was still painting the glass a slushy blur.

"Git," Percy muttered.

"Seconded," Bard sighed as he crouched down to peer under Percy's desk. "I'm sorry you had to listen to that, Moki old girl." There was a whine and a couple of thumps. "How's she going?"

"Little champion as always, Bard," Percy said with a crinkled smile. "She doesn't change."

Both men startled when the phone on Percy's desk started to ring.

"No rest for the wicked," Percy chuckled, slipping the headset back up around his ears before his right hand crept across to his wrist watch. "What time is it?"

"Morning still," Bard supplied, gathering his kit back up. "Just," he amended as he glanced at the clock once more. He caught Thorin's attention, who'd been watching the street out the window to make sure Masters and Alfridson were both not coming back anytime soon, and tilted his head towards the door. Thorin padded ahead of him and started to pull himself up the stairs.

"Thanks Bard, go make sure Dis hasn't thrown anything out of any windows.” With a grin Percy connected the call. “Good morning. Guide Dogs, Dale. Percy speaking, how can I help you?"

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bard Fletcher, Guide Dog Mobility Instructor, jogged up the stairs, his boots thumping heavily on each step. He juggled a few files that tried to make a bid for freedom, stopping to drop them off at a computer terminal in the hot-desk room even as Thorin loped onwards, making a beeline for the office of the Mobility Team Manager. Bard contemplated settling down to work right then for half a second, before he pulled a face and shouldered the duffle bag again before heading back out into the corridor. Thorin sat expectantly outside Dis' door, this tail thumping on the carpet, a clear sign to Bard to 'hurry up and open the door, human'.

Bard did as lupine eyes commanded, first opening the child gate, which acted as a dog barrier if required, and then the office door. Even as it the door creaked open, Bard could hear language turning the air gradually blue. He opened the door fully, stepped into the room, swung the duffle bag up and held it in front of his face.

Strong, capable and perfectly manicured fists proceeded to beat the crap out of it.

"C'mon," Bard put on his best Stallone, which was in truth abysmal. "C'mon, 1, 2. 1, 2. Show me what you got, tiger.” This got him an open-palm strike over the sternum, and he staggered into the wall.

“OK.” Bard peeled himself away off the wallpaper gingerly and lowered the bag. “Stressful morning?"

Dis stood in the cleared floor space of her office, breathing heavily through her nose. Dis was an formidable woman when riled and neither the light dusting of fine white hairs from the knee down, or the array of pens holding her dark hair off her shoulders, detracted from that. In actual fact, the stationary in her hair was a good barometer for her mood. The more pens, the higher the danger levels. Bard looked again; the letter opener was in there too. Oh Gods.

Dis sighed and dragged her hands up over her face to lace them over the mess of hair and writing implements. "Yes, yes you could say that.” She sighed once more before spotting Thorin, who was waiting patiently for acknowledgement outside of the boxing ring.

“Hello old boy," Dis murmured, last pretences of professionalism vanishing for the time being. She dropped to sit on the carpet and held out her arms to him. Thorin padded forwards with a whine and fussed his way into the circle of Dis' arms, rubbing his head into hers, trying his best to sit in her lap. Quite a feat, Bard observed, for a dog whose shoulders weren't far off coming up to his own hip. Dis scratched at Thorin's ears whilst the great dog rumbled approval. Bard let Dis have her few moments of therapy when a pale little face peeked out from round the leg of Dis' desk.

"Hello there." Bard straightened up and placed the duffle on the small conference table. The puppy cocked its head, listening. Bard held it's gaze for a second or two, before extending a hand. "Come.

The puppy came out from around the desk in a gambol of limbs, feet still too big for the rest of it. Bard grinned as the pup tottered to a halt at his feet, his palm pushed towards floor.

“Sit”. The puppy's rump hit the carpet with a thump. Bard’s finger pointed towards the floor. "Down". The pup flumped down flat with that funny little puppy squeak that indicated they were thinking 'look how clever I am'. All the time, the tail was a pale blur. "Alright, well done," Bard laughed, going down on one knee to fuss the wriggling mass of pale fur. "Who's this then?"

"This is Emerald, lab retriever cross, 3 months old and the kind donator of my current leg warmers," Dis said, plucking at her trouser legs, the pale blonde hair stark against the black cotton. “She’s also my current charge."

"You've been roped into puppy walking again?"

"Maybe."

"Dis..."

"What? Look, they needed someone short notice, her original puppy walker broke her hip, and it will be easier now the lads are out of the house and not going to spoil the puppy rotten." The 'and I could use the company' was left unsaid but from the way Dis turned her face into Thorin's ruff, they'd both heard it nonetheless.

"So why's it that his lordship felt the need to grace us with his presence?" Bard asked eventually. Dis groaned and reached up and behind herself, groping around on her desk top for a second.

"He says that Guide Dog owners have been letting their dogs wander around council property." She snatched an envelope off the table and thrust it at him. “Here, he claims, is photographic evidence of guide dogs loose and befouling council building green areas."

Bard took the envelope, fishing the photos out as Dis leaned against Thorin again. He flicked through them, slowly.

"Dis?"

"Yes." The response was muffled in fur.

"These dogs."

"Yes."

"They're pugs.”

“Yes."

Bard just stared at her, jaw working silently. “But… what… how?"

"And welcome to my brain for the last half hour," Dis groaned, rolling her head back to look balefully at him.

"The man's an idiot."

"I noticed.” She pulled herself up using the desk edge. "Not that I don't appreciate therapy cuddles, but was there anything I can help you with?"

"Not really." Bard gave Emerald's wiggling belly one last rub before rising to his feet. "Percy just warned me about our guest and suggested I come check that nothing has made it out the window."

"One time!" Dis groused. It was something of an office legend. In reality, Dis had been manhandling a box of obsolete paperwork down of the top of a cupboard next to an open upstairs window and one of the lads had startled her.

"All it takes. Alright, I'll be down the corridor." Bard poked at the duffle bag still on the conference table. "Volunteers' shirts for you."

“Cheers." Dis settled down behind her desk as Emerald trotted back under shelter. "What are you working on?"

"Want to have the catch-up visits written up and I need to tweak my part of the client list before tomorrow's team meeting."

Dis groaned and tilted her head back. "Team meeting," she whined pathetically.

Bard sighed even as he grinned at her theatrics. "What?"

"Betsy rang in this morning. Her father's double booked her." Betsy was one of the best volunteers the office had. Friendly, hard working and much valued support for Hilda Bianca and Percy on the front desk and on the phones. She was also all but maître d’ at her father's establishment, The Prancing Pony. “Wedding party." Dis put her elbows either side of her keyboard. "I know we're damn lucky to have her at all and she was so sincerely apologetic but…” She sighed yet again. "When it rains it pours."

There was silence in the office for a few heartbeats.

"Bard," Dis said patiently, eyes coming up from the computer screen to pin him in place. Bard sucked his teeth and avoided her gaze. "Bard my good man, you have a face that says you can solve my problems but you are holding out on me."

Bard grimaced. "Sigrid's home?"

Dis blinked, then was out of her chair. Emerald yapped indignantly. "Can she? Please? I'll give her anything she wants, just whilst we are all in the meeting tomorrow. Just the phones. Please?"

Bard put his hands up placatingly. "I'll ask. When I get home this evening, I'll ask if she can. She's home from uni for another week or so."

"Anything she wants," Dis repeated.

'It'll probably be the date of the boys' next gig and your next batch of fudge.'

"She may have to fight the boys for it but deal!"

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You heading off now, Bard?"

It was more than just a bit past five that afternoon. Activity was only just beginning to wind down, once Dis had moved through the office telling everyone to stop working and go home, to the responding chorus of variations on 'pot, kettle, black’.

"Yup, heading home." The files were back under Bard's arm and he untangled Thorin's lead as he crossed the reception. Percy was doing much the same thing, slipping Moki's harness over her head and clipping the girth strap in place. The little black Labrador wagged her tail at Thorin in greeting, he wuffled in reply.

"I've got a message I need to pass on," Percy said, straightening up and taking up the handle of the harness. "Please can you stop by Tesco's and pick up some more Lemsip?"

Bard rolled his eyes. "Sigrid called the office?” he asked incredulously.

"She said your mobile was switched off. And I tried to put her through to you but your line was engaged. I think Gandalf was still talking to you at that point."

That was true, but still. "You can't let the girl treat you like a secretary, Percy."

Percy smiled and shrugged. "You know I wouldn't for just anyone. And also, you didn't mention little Tilda was sick," he said reproachfully.

Bard grimaced, "Yeah, went to a friend's party before Christmas and brought home the plague."

"Huh, interesting addition to the traditional party bag.”

"Very funny." They both migrated towards the front doors.

“Got the door.” Bard held the door open and Percy and Moki slipped through ahead of him, Percy adjusting his reflective Browne's belt over his waterproof. "Need a lift to the bus station? Or home?"

"Thanks Bard, but we should be alright. Actually, wet dog on the bus usually buys us a bit more space," Percy said, grinning wickedly. "Give my best to Bain and the girls and we'll be having you in tomorrow's meeting." With that and wave, the pair headed off into the rain.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bard arrived home to the dull buzz of the TV and the smell of mince. He toed his boots off by the front door, hopping sideways as Thorin slipped passed and into the living room. Bard followed to find an only slightly different from typical sight. Thorin had lain down on the carpet and was being subject to the ministrations of a little auburn Sheltie. Bilbo fussed around Thorin's much larger form, nudging at muzzle and neck, making sure he was all there and all right. Thorin endured it with good grace as always, at last raising a paw to stem the flow of attention. Bilbo rocked onto his hind legs and yapped smartly at Thorin once or twice, clearly saying that Thorin was to sit still ’til he's done if he knew what's good for him. He continued to snuffle and fuss for a few more seconds before plonking himself down and leaning into Thorin's flank with a contented little huff.

The only difference this picture had to any other when Thorin came out to work with Bard, was the addition of Bard's youngest. Tilda sat in a cocoon of duvets and pillows, her back against the foot of the sofa. A slight indent in the region of her lap suggested Bilbo had been playing at being teddy bear.

"Hey there Princess."

"Da."

Tilda's smile was radiant even if her eyes were red rimmed and her voice was a harsh croak. Bard joined her on the carpet, kicking his legs out in front of him with a groan. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she croaked. "Sigrid's been great. Soup. Tea. Even changing the DVDs for me." She gestured weakly at the old TV set in the corner. Bard wasn't sure what cartoon she was watching, but a small dark haired girl had just punched a bald kid out of frame. Bard stroked her hair back from her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She was still a bit too warm but the congested note had left her voice, so a bit of progress. She yawned as he pulled away.

"You falling asleep on me?"

"Sorry."

"S'alright love. You snooze for a bit longer and I'll make sure we call you for tea."

"Thank you."

Bard extracted himself, propping one of the sturdier pillows next to her to lean on even as her eyes drifted shut. Bilbo's head came up as Bard clambered to his feet, looking from him to Tilda. "She's all yours," Bard said quietly to him as he crept out of the room. In the kitchen down the hall he could hear shuffling and soft humming.

Sigrid was at the stove with her back to him, earbuds in. From the way she was shifting her weight from foot to foot Bard guessed it was something orchestral. He grinned, creeping forward on socked feet and raised his arms.

A wooden spoon stopped an inch from his nose.

"Da!" she cried, even as Bard raised his hands in submission, eyes crossing to track the cooking implement. "You need to stop doing that! I'll spill something on you one day!"

"Sorry love," he muttered sheepishly as she lowered the spoon and ripped out her ear buds. She glared at him ruefully for a second, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her face. She relented, leaning in to give him a tight hug.

"Welcome home. Good day?"

"Not bad day," he admitted as she partly turned back to the stove. "Paperwork's up to date for tomorrow now. Oh, that reminds me." He fished in the Tesco's bag, pulling out first the Lemsip then a box of black cherries from among the reduced-to-clear items destined for the freezer. "For you."

"Oh Da! Thank you," she grinned up at him after accepting the box. She suddenly cocked her head. "Wait, what are these for?"

Bard squirm a little under her knowing look. "I'm sorry?"

"For?"

"Dropping you in it?"

"In what exactly?"

Bard sighed, hanging his head and letting his shoulders droop. "We're a bit stuck in the office tomorrow. Dis asks can you please come in and man the phones."

"Yes," she looked at him expectantly. "And?"

Bard blinked, "And nothing. So you can?"

"Yes, of course I can," Sigrid twisted to regard the family planner on the fridge. "Yup, Bain's home tomorrow. Looks like he's doing coursework so he should be alright to keep an eye on Tilda. She's getting better though. Oh Da," she smiled fondly at him. "You didn't need to bribe me."

"No?"

"No," she put the box down on the kitchen table before selecting a cherry and popping it in her mouth. "That's Dis' job."

"Ah, alright. One batch of caramel fudge and tickets to Fili's next stage appearance coming right up."

All that got him was a furious blush and a tea towel to the face. "Bain home yet?" Bard asked as he dragged the damp towel off his head. Sigrid tried to look as haughty as possible with heat still infusing her face and pointed at the trail of muddy foot prints coming in the back door. They tramped past an abandoned hockey stick bag. "Ah, how did it go?"

"Narrow victory it seems." Sigrid had hunkered down in front of the oven to check on the shepherd's pie. "Can you go and call them both please? I'll strain the peas and then we'll be set."

Bard sent off a quick text to Dis as he left the kitchen to go find his younger two. He found Bain coming down the stairs, flushed with victory and a hot shower. And he'd found Tilda where'd he'd left her, flushed with fever and the heat that comes from two dogs deciding the best way to take care of you is to lie directly on top and of you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bard is grateful he never considered management and Sigrid has the sort of phone call that makes you want to crawl down the phone line and hug the person at the other end.

"You sure? I can go and get H.B. if you've got any questions."

"I'm fine Da."

"If you get any new enquiries, you know there are sheets to help you, right?"

Sigrid did know this. Sigrid had proposed them. She'd designed them. She'd volunteered on the front desk last summer for work experience and to help out as regular volunteers started shyly asking if they could take holidays.

Sigrid pushed herself back from the desk, her chair wheeling her towards a set of old filing cabinets. Without looking she reached behind her and snatched the relevant sheet from an open faces file. She smiled patiently. "I'm alright, Da."

"OK, if you're sure," Bard continued to fuss, clearly not registering her words. "If anything comes through you're not sure about-"

"Take a message and contact details and pass on to H.B. or Percy, yes Da."

"Stop yer nannying Fletcher, the girl knows what she's doing."

Bard did his best to wipe the concerned look off his face in the light of Sigrid's knowing grin. He pushed himself off the desk front and turned to face his immediate superior.

"Ah yer just gonna stand there or ah yer gonna help me with this bloody thing man!"

"Right," with an expression of meekness that fooled no one, Bard hurried forwards to hold the double doors open.

Dain Ironfoot, mobility service provider, wheeled himself into the reception under Bard's outstretched arm. Sigrid hopped out from around the desk and came forward, crouching down to give Dain a hug. Something of a surrogate grandfather, Dain made a gruff noise of greeting and patted her back before letting her straighten up. "Not that it's not wonderful to see yer, but what ah you doin' back in the trenches lass?"

"High command called in for reinforcements." At Dain's raised eyebrows Sigrid elaborated. "Betsy's been double booked and, yeah, phones."

"Ah," Dain nodded understandingly, before giving her a conspiratorial look from under bushy eyebrows. "Yer father volunteered yer, right?"

"Yup."

"Bard," Dain twisted in his wheelchair to eyeball him. "Throwin' yer girl to the wolves like that, how could you?"

Sigrid giggled behind her fingers as Bard sighed and threw his hands in the air. "She's getting fudge for this, don't believe the martyr act."

As if summoned by the mere mention of their mother's famed confectionery, a pair of shadows appeared in the office doorway. Fili and Kili Durison, both guide dog trainers, proceeded to get wedged in the doorway, too engrossed in the paperwork in their hands. Their charges had seen this coming and were stood patiently before them. With some good natured cussing, the pair untangled themselves and staggered into the room, where Kili immediately caught sight of Sigrid.

With a wordless cry of joy, he barrelled forward and, with a squeak from her, scooped her up into a hug. His brother followed shortly behind and soon Sigrid was sandwiched between the pair and blushing faintly.

"Sigrid!" Kili trilled, rubbing his cheek into her hair, making her squawk. Fili chuckled and squeezed her harder before stepping back.

"It's been awhile, how are you?" He smiled kindly as she blushed and mumbled something, Kili still clinging like a deranged koala.

"Get off the girl, yer delinquents," Dain growled, flapping his hands at the pair. "It's nearly nine. Take yer charges and go get set up before yer mother finds yer."

The pair meekly stepped away and collected the two young dogs who'd been watching with interest and disappeared into the bowels of the office.

"Right missy," Dain addressed Sigrid. "Yer have yer post. Hop to it. Bard, with me."

Sigrid smiled, popping a salute as Dain wheeled himself out into the corridor. Thorin, who'd been weathering the lunacy under Sigrid's desk, slunk out and padded behind them. Both he and Bard followed Dain down the corridor to the stairs. Dain huffed a sigh and began to lever himself out of the wheelchair. Bard detached the crutches from the seat's back and handed them to Dain. With some grunting and cursing, Dain got upright and Bard folded the chair away and tucked it into a cupboard under the stairs. "Yer know," Dain grunted as he started to haul himself up the stairs, "for a mobility organisation, this is bloody ridiculous."

Bard nodded. "Dis' working on it, but the council's kicking up stink about having a lift put in. Says it's a listed building."

"Balls it is," Dain snarled, "it's Masters." It was probably true. Bard couldn't quite get what Masters' damage was, apart having a silver spoon shoved up his arse. Bard wasn't sure if it was Guide Dogs as an organisation he had a beef with or the team as people. Probably the latter, given history.

Dain stopped about two thirds up the stairs, listing heavily to one side. His foot had gotten worse in recent years and the cold weather was not helping matters. Dain didn't like to talk about his service at Azanulbizar, but his increased use of walking canes, crutches and most recently the wheelchair, spoke volumes. Bard understood that well. The two old soldiers continued up the stairs in silence when Dain had his bearings once more, Thorin watching their backs.

They settled into the only room in the building big enough to take the mobility team, office based team and all the dogs. Sometimes it was hard to tell who was handling who. Fili and Kili had gravitated to the far end of the room, with the big windows, legroom and a plate of biscuits, their two young dogs benched and quite content to lie quietly. Dwalin was just settling down in one of the sturdier chairs, his two pups wiggling about his feet. Bofur was doing what he could to make sure the pair didn't inadvertently kill their keeper by tripping him. Ori was on his mobile in a corner, he fluttered a quick wave to Bard and Dain even as he continued talking. Gloin shuffled in behind them with a gruff nod, taking a seat near an empty power socket and pulling out a battered laptop.  
Bard took the seat across from Dain, out of the way of the door and shrugged his bag off his shoulder. Whilst he fished through for his notes, Thorin moved around the room, as if inspecting the new recruits. Fili and Kili's pair seemed to pass muster and Thorin endured the Dwalin's younger, more exuberant two, grumbling when one decided his ear look appetising.

The door down stairs opened and closed and he could hear the fluttery and panicked conversation that meant Radagast was here and his usual self. Bard thought he could hear Sigrid trying to reassure him that he wasn't late, without much luck, but Radagast's dithering was placated by the addition of a third deep and rumbling voice. A few moments later, Radagast appeared at the the top of the stairs, in quick fire conversation with Beorn. The team's other guide dog instructor smiled indulgently at their vet consultant as he continued to draw lines in the air as he talked. The giant of a man nodded to Bard as he ducked through the door way, Ursa trailing in behind him. The only guide dog Bard's seen who's larger than Thorin, the retired malamute cross was the most placid and affectionate of beasts and was perfectly sized for her re-homer.

There was idle chatter for a few minutes, punctuated with Bofur's laugh and accusations that the lads had stolen all the custard creams, before the rest of the team made their way in. The two mobility support workers, Hilda Bianca and Percy, and of course Moki, had managed to tear themselves away from their desks and where now squeezing through the door. The boys made room for Percy down the far end and H.B. shuffled her way over to one of the computer stations opposite Bard and sat down, booting it up. Bard caught her eye and frown at her, cocking his head.  
She pulled a face and wiggled her fingers over the keyboard. 'Minuting' she mouthed.

Bard nodded in understanding just as Dis and Balin passed through the door. Dis looked harried already this morning and was flicking through paperwork in her hands. Balin was talking softly to her as she nodded absently. Bard wasn't sure what was being said, but Dis smiled weakly as Balin squeezed her shoulder and took a seat next to his brother.  
"Right," Dis said, standing at the head of the table, every canine and human eye on her, "let's get this craziness started."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Team meetings, in Bard's experience, were strange things. You followed a set routine, in that everyone had their turn to talk, but beyond that, no two meetings were ever the same. Made it a little tricky to pay attention because the brain was convinced that it had heard it before, even though it was new information.

Dis started off. Not much out of the ordinary; client numbers, projected dog numbers, the introduction of the new database system, preparations for the fundraising gala next September. And Masters' most recent confrontation at the office. This was greeted with groans and eye rolls and Bofur muttering vile things under his breath. Dain went through the waiting list with the room at large, looking to Percy and H.B. for how the clients were doing, to Fili and Kili as to how the dogs in training were progressing, pencilling potential matches. Gloin tinkered with a spread sheet as he talked about the Christmas increase of 'Sponsor a Puppy' donations. Bofur talked at length (it was always the way but no one ever wanted to stop him) about the schools and organisations requesting talks.

Percy butted in at this point to request that staff members take literature with them, rather than have the office post them, please and thank you. Ori picked up after that, saying that the volunteer speakers were doing a very good job and that the team had gained two volunteer drivers. Dwalin summarised what he was doing with some local schools. The two pups with him were destined to be buddy dogs and he already had two younguns in mind for them, both out Hobbiton way. Balin recanted the recent conference of some of the mobility organisations, working closely with Oin and Bifur, Hearing Dogs and Assistance Dogs respectively. Fili and Kili ran through the dogs they currently had under their training, highlighting any concerns and asking Ori if he could look for another boarder or two towards the Blue Mountains region for the future. Radagast did enthuse for a long while about the improvements he's see in arthritic dogs when treated with cod liver and devil's claw oils before he was gently nudged back on track by Beorn.

Beorn spoke softly about how his clients were progressing. There were one or two issues that had cropped up in long standing partnership, old habits which were starting to affect performance but nothing a little retraining could handle. Bard contributed his bullet points, referring to his notes every now and again. Two of his guide dog partnerships were facing retirement, combination of old age and health, so potential matches would need to be looked into. Tilda's school are hitting their targets in their Name A Puppy drive.

The information was shared and dissected as effectively as the biscuit rations, even if it did take all day. They had broken for lunch, where they'd tramped down stairs for tea and sandwiches and in the case of H.B., anything of urgency from Sigrid. H.B. returned with a grateful smile when it appeared Sigrid had everything under control, compiling a literature request and having handled two equipment orders. They'd told Sigrid to break for lunch and apparently she'd agreed, but Bard was willing to bet she'd be sneaking her sandwiches at her desk, not willing to leave her post. The heavy rain still lingered from yesterday and foot traffic was light, but there was always the chance of walk-ins.

The day's meeting went on for a grand total of 6 hours. Not unusual, but that never made it any easier on anyone involved, all emerging with brains like wrung sponges.

Bard staggered down the stairs, stiff from sitting down for so long, stuck his head around the reception door. He needed tea and he was willing to bet Sigrid would as well.

He got the impression she may require something a little stronger. She was on the phone, the headset in place over her flyaway hair and the fingers of her left hand holding the ear piece in place. She was writing as she spoke, occasionally absent-mindedly nodding to whatever was being said in return, her brows furrowed in concentration and, Bard could recognise it, concern.

She looked up quickly as he crossed to the desk, eyes going back down to the form in front of her as soon as she noted it was him casting a shadow. Bard lent over the desk top to take a peek at the form. New enquiry.

He lent back not wanting to interrupt her flow too much. He brought both hands up, palms against his chest, before popping two thumbs up with a set of questioning eyebrows.

_You OK?_

Sigrid smiled tiredly and nodded.

Bard pulled a 'if you are sure' face before his hands fluttered again. He brought a hand up to chest height, pinched thumb and forefinger together and twisted his wrist towards himself.

_Tea?_

Sigrid tapped her fingers to her chin before dropping her hand.

_Please._

Bard sneaked away and took up position at the kettle. He filled it as much as he dared, boots on the stairs heralding the imminent arrival of tea and coffee orders. Eventually, Bard prepped a mug for her, swiping a pair of shortbreads from just under Kili's outstretched fingers. He set the horde down at her elbow. Sigrid was no longer writing, the form complete in front of her. She was leaning with her arms on the desktop in front of her, hands laced together.

"We'll do everything we can to help," she was saying softly. "And even if it turns out a guide dog isn't what would help him most, we can offer other services like- yes, like My Guide and mobility training." She smiled, it appeared her listener had been taking notes. "It will be alright, we're here to help, Tauriel. I will log all this and pass his case onto our mobility instructor. He'll be making contact- how soon? Well, actually, we're currently in a bit of a lull at the moment, holiday period and all, so probably quite soon." She smiled up at Bard as the biscuits were nudged forwards. "But if you've got any questions or concerns in the mean time, please feel free to give us a ring again. OK? OK, is there anything else I can help you with?..... You are very welcome Tauriel. All the best. Hope to hear from you again. Bye."

Sigrid hit the button to cut the connect and knocked the head set off her ears, blowing out a steady stream of breath as she did so, cheeks billowed.

"Rough call?" Bard asked sympathetically.

"Not rough," Sigrid closed her eyes and inhaled the steam from her mug, both hands around the warm ceramic. "Just hard. Oh, no, she was lovely," she said quickly as Bard raised his eyebrows in a 'do-I-need-to-have-a-word-with-someone?' manner. "But she was ringing on behalf of someone and I don't know about him, but she sounded at the end of her rope."

"What's the situation?" Bard shuffled literature packs aside to perch a hip on the desk edge.

"From what I can make of it, she, her name's Tauriel and she didn't sound very old, she's a family friend who's ended up being a live-in-carer for the guy she was enquiring for." She took a deep swig of tea. "His name's," she consulted the form, "Thranduil. He lost his sight about 3 years ago and has become a recluse. She said she's tried everything she can think of and he's, he's just," she waved her hand sadly. "She used the word 'fading'. She sounded so sad, I think there was a few tears her end. Anyway, she feels she needs support with him."

Bard's brow wrinkled. "He knows about the enquiry right?"

Sigrid's eyes widened a little in panic. "She said he knew she was making the call? Oh, that could mean anything."

Bard placed a hand on her head as she started to chew her thumb nail. "It's OK. Don't worry. I'm sure he does. Anyway, he'll know when Balin comes a-calling."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Bard, laddie, I have a favour to ask you."

"Ah Balin! How can I help?"

Bard juggled shopping bags and phone as he unlocked the back doors of the car. Sigrid ducked around him, depositing her armfuls of shopping on the back seat, before ducking back out to take Bard's. Thorin huffed at them from the boot.

"Our most recent enquiry? I was wondering if you'd be interested in progressing with your mobility instructor training?"

Bard straightened. "You want me to take the Green case?" Next to him Sigrid stilled, turning to watch him.

"I think this would be a good idea," Balin said kindly. "You've not got any new partnership to work on outside of Elrond and Galadriel, correct?"

"No. No, they’re my only retraining clients at the moment. My pack seem to be getting on alright truth be told." He smile ruefully at Sigrid. "So, you want me to take this case from the start?"

"I think it would be a good opportunity for you to put your training into practice," Bard could hear the kind and patient smile in the voice. He could also hear the tight lines around the eyes.

"The Lake-town contingency are giving a hard time right?"

Bard couldn't help but grin at the exasperated sigh that rattled through the phone speakers. "Admittedly, I do find my hands full with our clients in Lake-town." In reality, the Lake-towners were engaged in a sort of guerrilla war with Masters, dragging Guide Dogs with them. "And while I would be very grateful if you could take one case off my workload, I think this could be a good case for you to try your hand with."

"OK, OK!" Bard laughed, raising a hand in surrender more for Sigrid's show than to placate his stressed colleague. "I can take the case. Could you send me an email confirming name and number and I'll have a look at it this evening?"

"Thank you Bard. Thanks lad." Bard could hear the relief in the older man's voice. "It will be a good experience for you, I'm sure."

"Eh," Bard said with a light shrug as Sigrid grinned. "We'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics indicated use of British Sign Language.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which first meetings are had and first impressions are made; some are stellar, some not so.

Bard looked up at the residence in front of him. Then to the print out with the address on it. Then to his sat-nav. Then finally to Thorin in the boot. He was quite certain the German Shepherd was wearing the same slightly-stunned expression that Bard currently had.

The sat-nav confirmed that they were not, in fact, in the middle of a Natural Trust park somewhere, but actually at a private residence. The drive of Mirkwood house was a long winding gravel track, flanked by sprawling, skeletal trees. The autumn's fallen leaves and the winter’s persistent rain and sleet had created a sodden blanket at their roots, blurring the paths boundaries. The track had snaked with no obvious route until a pair of wrought iron gates reared out of a dry stone wall. Bard had had to put his shoulder into the left hand gate, even as the right half swung easily. Beyond the gate stood, well... you'd be stretching to call it a house. The building was large and stately, the stone pale and grey in the weak winter sunlight. It was the sort of building that could be described by referring to its' 'wings'. Nowhere was over three stories high but it spread into the gravel and surrounding vast gardens, like a great slumbering beast. 

"Well, containment's gonna be a bugger," Bard muttered absently, gazing at the bare flower beds and hedges. The place must be a sight to see in summer, but now, it looked so sickly.

He looked down at Thorin, before setting off towards the front door. Thorin huffed and followed on, hopping up the front steps and waiting on the step as Bard collected himself in front of the wooden double doors. Looking down at Thorin once more, Bard reached out for the knocker, shaped like a stag's head, and knocked.

Admittedly, they waited a little while. Bard could hear movement inside; a figure flashed past an upstairs window and a voice called 'coming! Sorry, coming!' Thorin plonked himself down with a grumble that quirked a smile from Bard as he rocked on his heels, waiting.

The door swung open in fits and starts and a young woman appeared around the frame. Her smile was bright, if a little brittle, her long auburn hair falling over one shoulder.

"Hello," Bard said warmly, holding out his hand. "You must be Tauriel."

"Uh, yes. Yes, hello." She stepped out from around the door and took his hand to shake. Even though he was a couple of steps below her, Bard guessed she'd probably be taller than him. "And you're from Guide Dogs, umm, sorry." 

"Bard," said with a gentle smile, squeezing her hand before letting it go. "And this is Thorin." 

"Oh! Oh hello." Tauriel looked from Thorin to Bard in shock. "I didn't realise it was so fast...", muttered worriedly. 

"Oh, no. Thorin's actually a retired guide dog. I'm his re-homer, he comes out to work with me. Combination of separation anxiety and my clients all know and love him." 

"Oh! Oh I'm sorry, I thought...." A hot blush spread over her face, her freckles merging into the colour.

"It's OK. You're new to this right?" Bard grinned when she nodded sheepishly. He grinned when he saw her fingers twisting in the hem of her knit jumper. "Do you want to say hello?"

She gave him a grateful nod and crouched down in front of Thorin carefully. "Hello Thorin," she said softly, reaching out slowly to scratch him under his greying chin. Thorin's eyes slid half shut and his tail thumped lazily. He rumbled his approval.

"Have you ever had dogs before?" Bard asked her, giving her a curious look.

"Me? No."

"Well, you've got the right approach in any case. Especially with this old boy." She giggled as Thorin rumbled again. "So, where can we find this Mr Green then?"

"Ah, he's, umm, he's upstairs." Tauriel straighten up and lead them back through the wooden front doors. The old oak was as imposing as the gates had been and the hallway beyond continued the theme. There was undeniable grandeur to the place; Bard could imagine the house being the stage for one of Sigrid's favourite period dramas. The sweeping staircases, the alcoves, the window seats. At least he assumed there were seats set under the windows. Heavy curtains and dust sheets hid a lot, but every now and again Bard caught a hint of intricately carved hard wood furniture, classical sculptures, clawed furniture feet and gilt portrait frames.

"Quite the place, this," Bard muttered, hands deep in his pockets as the soles of his boots squeaked on the polished wooden floors.

"Ah, yes," Tauriel said, without much conviction. She started climbing a winding stair case, feet light on the steps. "It's an old family home." 

"Many people live here?" 

"No. Just Mr Green and myself."

"And Mr Green is your...... Employer? Partner?" Bard prompted.

"What?! Oh no! No, I'm...... I'm a friend of his son's, Legolas." The blush from earlier was back in force and Bard nodded, taking pity on her. He started following her up the wide stairs, reaching out for the bannister.

And nearly fell to his death on polished floors when he didn't find one.

"What is this?" his voice incredulous and little thin. When she looked at him quizzically, he waved his hands to the empty air besides him, eyes wide. 

"This? This right here? That's a hazard to someone with vision." He peered over the edge of the stairs. "To the visually impaired, it's a death trap. Why hasn't he put in a railing?"

Tauriel bit her lip and shrugged a helpless shoulder. "There's a lot of things he hasn't done." Her voice was very small and impossibly sad, but she held Bard's eye. She sighed and glanced at her brogue-clad toes before looking back up at him. "We need your help. Please. This way."

She turned and covered the last few steps. Bard turned to Thorin, but the old dog only stared balefully back. He jogged up the last few steps and followed Tauriel along a walk way, baulking when he realised it too was nothing but a sheer drop. He rubbed his brow and sighed before he came upon Tauriel, who was waiting for him at the door to what looked like a suite of rooms. 

Tauriel raised a fist to knock, hesitating before Bard gave her an encouraging smile. She took a fortifying breath and knocked.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bard's initial impression of his new client was one of impossible stillness. Tauriel made the faltering introductions, stood in no man's land between them.

Thranduil sat as if he was holding court. The wide wooden seat's high back flared over each shoulder, coiled with carved vines and branches. A wide window at his back flooded the room with watery winter light, casting an opalescent sheen on what of his face Bard could see and catching in the man's white blonde hair like frost. He hadn't moved since they'd walked in, face turned to press against the glass. 

Bard glanced around the room as Tauriel tried to get a response from Thranduil. The room was large and appeared to be the man's sole living quarters. A comfortable looking futon lay inexpertly made in open corner, soft furnishings spilling from it. A few low seats and sofas stood in orbit of Thranduil's grand chair. A kitchenette led off one side and a bathroom of the other. There was a large music system ensconced in a sturdy cabinet. All manner of recordings were haphazardly piled around it; CDs, vinyls and cassettes lay scattered about. There were a few photos here and there. A blonde youth grinning devilishly at the camera. A beautiful woman with a babe in arms. An older gentleman in military uniform.

Thranduil had still not acknowledged them, even when Tauriel disappeared into the kitchenette to make tea. Bard rocked on his heels for a second before settling onto the sofa opposite.

"Hello," Bard lent forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "As Tauriel said, my names Bard Fletcher and I've come from Guide Dogs. I’m here to see if we can help you." Bard glanced down when still nothing was forth coming from the man in front of him. He pursed his lips and started digging in his messenger bag for the interview sheets. He absently scratched behind Thorin's ears with one hand as the other tugged out a pen.

"You did not come on my behalf."

Bard's head snapped up. To be honest, he couldn't have said what he had been expecting, but he hadn't been expecting that voice. The man before him was lithe and long haired and yet that voice. It was like looking into the eyes of a deer and having it roar in your face. Bard watched as Thranduil finally turned to face him.

Visually impaired people, when in conversation, behave in a variety of ways. Those born blind, their eyes may travel skyward or down. Those who have lost their sight, their eyes may travel working in tandem with their ears trying to locate the speaker. Some wear dark glasses to hide their eyes completely. There was nothing about Thranduil's eyes that suggested that they weren't health and functioning, and yet his gaze was so unseeing. His eyes stayed still in his face as his head turned, like the beam of a lighthouse, and when they settled unerringly on Bard, he wasn't convinced he wouldn't be casting a shadow.

Bard had never seen anyone quite like Thranduil. Pale hair, pale skin and paler eyes. Bone structure that looked as if it belonged in contemporary architecture. He was dressed in light greys; leggings, cardigans and shawls layered like feathers. They shifted with him, slipping as he turned.

Bard blinked and huffed a small laugh. "Well, Tauriel placed the call, it's true. But we want to know if we can be of any assistance."

Thranduil said nothing more, just faced Bard with a stillness that slowed Bard's breathing rate and made his right shoulder ache. Bard had to look away shortly, fingers in Thorin's ruff as a nervous habit. Tauriel returned shortly with slightly stewed tea. Bard watched as she placed a mug carefully into Thranduil's hands before settling on the end of Bard's sofa, between him and Thranduil.

"Right," Bard cleared his throat and placed down his mug, picking up the clip board of interview notes. "How about we start then?"

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bard had observed many initial interviews and conducted a few himself and no two were ever the same. Some potential clients are convinced that everything will be alright if they could only get a dog. Some are full of nerves and worries. Some are full of fear, what if it doesn't work, what if they fail?

He'd never been in an interview like this. Thranduil sat sit and quiet and though Bard pitched every question to him, it was inevitably Tauriel who ended up providing the answers. Some things were easy enough. Name, age, medical histories. Bard could see the tension coiling in Thranduil as they got onto topics such as the nature of his visual impairment and what his current levels of mobility were. Tauriel shifted and said that at present, Thranduil didn't have any levels of mobility, that hopefully Guide Dogs would be able to fix that? Bard watched Thranduil with every answer Tauriel gave, looking for any tells the man may give.

But it was Tauriel who gave the game away with every pinched expression. 

Q14. Does the client currently have, or have a history of, any addictive substance dependencies? 

Tauriel froze, nervous energy bleeding out of her, and her gaze snapped to Thranduil. There was a very telling moment of silence, during which Bard looked expectantly between them. Hesitantly, Tauriel denied anything of that nature in Thranduil's past.

But not once, during the 40 minute discussion, did Thranduil contribute or respond. Disinterest and apathy hung about him like a robe and, for every ignored question, Tauriel was getting more and more visibly upset. 

Bard had heard about this type of client but had never personally run into an example. The client who, for whatever reason, doesn't want help. Sigrid's words came back to him. He'd never seen anyone 'fade', but if he had to choose an example, Thranduil would be the case study.

When it was clear that Tauriel couldn't withstand the tension in the air any longer, Bard wrapped up the questions. "So Thranduil, do you have any questions for me? Anything about the process?"

Bard hadn't been expecting a response but it was worth a shot, even if all he got in response was more silence. He stood, brushing his knees off as Thorin hauled himself to his feet. "I be conferring with some of my colleagues and we will be in contact soon to discuss how to proceed." Code; 'I'm gonna phone Balin the first chance I get to ask what the hell you do with a client who for all appearances doesn't want our help.'

Nothing. Still nothing. Tauriel was twisting her hands bloodless in her lap, her face hot with frustration. Bard looked to her pinched face before nodding shortly. He approached Thranduil slowly. "I'll be taking my leave now, it was good to meet you sir." Thranduil didn't extend a hand, but Bard wasn't expecting him to. He merely turned his face away from the room, dismissing Bard as if he'd acknowledged him at all in the first place.

Bard fought the urge to bow sarcastically, not that Thranduil would register the action, and turned to retrieve his bag and notes from the sofa. Tauriel scrambled up and followed him and Thorin out.

"Mr Fletcher?" They hadn't gotten far from the suite, but Bard was pretty certain they were well out of earshot. "So..... What do you think?"

Bard looked into the young woman's face. He could see in her eyes that she knew what he going to say and yet was still hoping against hope she wouldn't have to hear it.

Bard looked at her helpless for a moment before racking a hand over his brow and into his hair. "Tauriel, I can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. At the moment Mr Green isn't giving me any indication that he would be willing to try for a guide dog partnership. It's not a simple case of giving him a dog and sending him on his way," he said kindly. "Maybe I could leave some literature with you. It's not uncommon for people to contact us and decide they aren't quite ready or that they need time."

Tauriel's eyes had started to well with tears and she bit her lip to the point Bard thought she may draw blood. "I'll leave a few things for you to go over with him, I've got things from other organisations too. You can go over the options with him, find what works for him. It may be you come back to us in a year or so." 

Tauriel took the bundle of leaflets and brochures Bard handed her, her fingers shaking as they gripped them. "A year?" she burst out. "He may not-." She stopped herself and tripped her head back and took a deep breath. "Well, thank you. For coming out and seeing him. I'm sorry it's been a waste of time."

"That's quite alright." Bard said, offering her a hand. She took it, squeezing briefly. "And Tauriel, these visits are never wasted of time, whatever the outcome. Listen, before I go, would it be alright to use a bathroom?"

"Certainly, if you go down this hall, it's the second one on your right." She drew herself up, clutching the literature to her chest. "Would you be able to see yourselves out?"

"Absolutely."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bard ducked out of the toilet and braced his hands on the sink top. This man was slipping, it was clear. Bard frowned at this own reflection. Tauriel obviously cared deeply for Thranduil and he was showing nothing, not to her or evidently to the rest of the world. The man had just shut down. Bard had met plenty of people whose sight loss had made them into recluses or filled them with despair and rage to the point they lashed out. He'd seen desperate people, but he'd never seen a desperate case. He scrubbed his hands and splashed water onto his face for good measure. He'd write up the case, record it as 'unable to proceed', flag it to Balin and he'd maybe keep a distant eye on the case over the data base. It rankled him that this, his first solo case from start, was a no-go from the very start. 

He dried his hands on a plush towel from the stack on the sink top and swore as he knocked a few cosmetic bottles to the floor. He scooped up the foundation tubes and ranked them back with their fellows. Bard frown at the array of tubes, most half empty and in a nest of packs of make-up remover wipes. His mind wandered to Tauriel's freckles.

And then he heard the shouting.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thorin was gone from his post outside the bathroom door and was in front of the doors of the suite, back feet planted even as his front feet skittered and danced as he whined softly. Beyond the door Tauriel was screaming, tears evident in her voice. 

"There is no life in you any more, no love! I can't stand aside and just let you fade away." The gap in the door was wide enough that Bard could see the pair of them, Tauriel's back to him and her form shaking with rage. "You will not turn away from this chance. Not this time."

"Get out of my way Tauriel." Thranduil's have the same creeping menace as magma, yet it burned with ice.

"Out of your way!?", she shrieked, "What way is this? You have not set foot outside this house in three years! You are turning this place into your crypt." 

"Oh, now you are being over dramatic."

"Am I?" The fight went out of her shoulders as her voice softened. "You can't let it end like this. There are people who need you. You can still do the work. Legolas needs you-"

"Legolas?" Thranduil snapped. He loomed up from his seat, shawls and throws falling to the floor with a hiss. Angry patches of colour were appearing unevenly on this face. "My son seems to be doing just fine. Or didn't you notice he didn't come home this Christmas?"

"He's waiting for the day when he wakes to the news that you haven't. He's mourning you and you're still breathing!" Tauriel shot back, "Or do you think so little of your life?"

"And what do you know of life?" Thranduil snarled, an ugly, twisted look slipping onto his face. "You hide here and in your star charts. You use me as a crutch-"

"Don't" Tauriel snapped. "Don't even think about turning this on me." Bard didn't notice the door swinging a little wider. "This is about you, Thranduil. You and your fear." Her voice had gone steely and she was pointing a rigid finger at him, for all that it put her point to him. "You lost your sight and you lost her that night. Don't let the bastards steal your life too." 

She dropped her hand and it settled into Thorin's ruff, her fingers idling there for a moment.

Bard could see the moment when ice flooded into her blood.

Tauriel gasped and span, narrowly avoiding Thorin as he scrambled back, huffing softly in shock. Bard watched as her wild eyes flicked from Thorin to Bard, just visible through the gap in the door. Bard didn't know what expression he was wearing but Tauriel was frozen in the middle of the room and so she didn't see the colour drain in blotches from Thranduil's face. Thranduil drew himself up, his jaw clenched tight and his pale eyes alight with something violent. Bard had sat and spoken to this man for near an hour but this was the first time he'd seen any indication that the man was not carved out of snow.

"Tauriel," Thranduil's words was quiet, but Bard could feel the muzzle flash and the smell of cordite coming hard on their heels. "Please ensure that Mr Fletcher leaves the premises."

Bard didn't wait to be shown out. He tapped his knee to call Thorin back to him and the old dog padded back out the door, pausing only to lick at Tauriel's hand. He and Bard moved swiftly down the hall, the sound of Tauriel foot falls following them. They passed an alcove window seat that looked out over an ornate pond the size of an Olympic pool, when Bard spotted the blue and white of the literature pack. He hurriedly fished in a pocket and pulled out one of Gandalf dog eared business cards. He was tucking it into the top of the folder when Tauriel caught up with them. The tears that had been threatening washed down her face.

"I'm so sorry," she blurted out, leading them down the stairs. "I'm sorry. You weren't meant to see or hear any of that. I'm sorry, but please, please can you go now?" Even as she said it, she reached out and took his hand, shaking it firmly but distractedly.

"We are in the wind," Bard said as they reached the door. "Very sorry for prying like that," he added, shame faced. He squeezed her hand and she let it go as if she'd been burned. "Will you be alright?" 

"I'll be fine. But please, go."

Bard swallowed and nodded falteringly. "Alright. Good luck with everything. It was nice to meet you." He turned and walked through the huge front door and down the steps towards the car, trying to look like he was not, in fact, making a hasty retreat. He popped the boot open and found himself short a German Shepherd waiting to jump in. He looked to the doorway, where Tauriel's tear lined face still peeked around the door and the old dog stood on the front step looking up at her. She made gentle shooing motions at him but he moved off only when Bard called him. The two of them slunk into the car and soon Mirkwood House was an ominous shape gentle receding in the rear view mirror.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things change very quickly, just before the New Year.

"So, how did yesterday's initial meeting go, Da?"

"You know I can't discuss this sort of thing Bain. Client confidentiality and all that."

"..."

"..."

"It went badly, didn't it?"

"Yes, absolute train wreck, yes."

Bard sighed and looked over at his son. Bain was giving him a sympathetic grimace from where he was standing at the sink, up to his elbows in soap suds.

"It's nothing to worry about, promise."

"Right. It's just, you've been drying that mug for the last 4 minutes and Tilda will not be happy if you rub the dalek off her favourite mug."

Bard gingerly put the mug into the cupboard open at his knees and picked up a plate from the draining board. Sigrid had cooked Saturday breakfast and so the men folk were cleaning up while she and Tilda walked to dance class.

"Sorry, didn't mean to be miles away."

"S'alright Da. Anything worrying you in particular?"

Bard furrowed his brow for a second before he couldn't help his eyes widening in exasperation and irritated helplessness. "Yes," he said emphatically, "everything."

"Does the client, who will remain nameless!" Bain added hastily when Bard turned a petulant glower on him, "do they want to be helped?"

"He wants a damn good shake, that's what he wants."

"Umm," Bain made a pained face, "don't think that's offered in the mobility training."

"It ought to be arranged... I'm sure Beorn would agree with me."

They continued to tidy away cutlery and crockery in silence. Well, Bain tidied away at least. When he removed the third plate from his father's idling hands, he said, "how about you take the boys out for a bit?"

Bard blinked at him. Usually Bain guarded the weekend duty of walking the two dogs jealously and he shrugged sheepishly under his father's scrutiny. "You look as if you need the fresh air and the thinking time. Besides," he added as his face slipped into a deadpan mask, "I am still recovering from the match. Oh ow, my legs, the pain."

Bard swatted at his with the tea towel. "You just want to stay in the warm and watch 'Weekend Brunch'."

Bain's ears coloured a little but he did not back down. "Sigrid's asked me to do dinner next Tuesday, I need to get inspiration."

Bard was already shrugging on his wind-breaker. "And it has nothing to do with the rather lovely blonde lady chief?"

"Nothing whatsoever."

Bard laughed as he picked the two leads out of the flotsam and jetsam around the front hall, Bilbo hopping around his ankles and Thorin patient at the door. He knew he shouldn't take cheap shots at his kids like that. Sigrid and Bain were both relatively shy with people they didn't know (and in the case of Sigrid and Fili, even people they did know), if they weren't in their comfort zones; a stage and a sports field respectively. He knew he ought to be sensitive of their teenage blossoming and such.

He also knew he needed to get it out of his system now because no way in seven hells was Tilda going to put up with it for a second when it was her turn. The girl was going to be a heart-breaker. Or a ball-buster. Probably both.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He ended up being gone for most of the daylight hours.

His feet took him automatically away from the outskirts of Dale and up towards Ravens' Hill. The morning's frost clung resolutely to the ground and leaves crunched under foot. The two dogs took full advantage of the cold air, running to and fro, chasing one another in circles and rolling in the drifts of leaves. Thorin doubled back regularly, checking that his human was alright whilst Bilbo endeavoured to look more like a hedgehog. Soon his thick white and auburn fur was indistinguishable from the pelt of leaves and twigs. Bard soon broke out the throwing stick and Thorin's measured pace to accommodate Bilbo's shorter legs evaporate in the face of a speeding blue tennis ball. Bilbo did valiantly, trailing back and forth behind Thorin until he made the executive decision that Bard required company as he walked.

Bard let his mind wander as he walked and was not surprised when it trailed down a long and care worn gravel drive. He thought of shadows over a face and another statue in the empty rooms.

Bard worried his lip between his teeth. He wasn't sure why this case was bothering him so much. It wasn't his first difficult and sensitive case by a long shot. He'd had mothers distraught they'd not observed their child's worsening sight. He'd had a few clients confide in him that the River Running or Gondor's Citadel building had been very inviting.

But with Thranduil, there'd been nothing. It was like he was already gone. And Bard had not even scratched the veneer of calm, because he knew that was what it was now. Clients always responded. Somehow.

So what do they do? From what Bard could get from the situation, Thranduil needed all the help that could be offered to him. He was a painfully blank canvas. But it was like there was a layer of plexiglass between him and any and all paint Bard could throw at him.

They couldn't force anything in this situation. They didn't have a leg to stand on in that regard; it was a completely voluntary process on the part of the client. And Thranduil's... What, his pride? His fear? Whatever it was, it had him and he didn't seem keen to shake it off.

Bard felt the realisation settle into his bones. There was nothing he could do. Not at this stage.

But, he couldn't just let that man fade away. He couldn't leave Tauriel in that battle alone.

Oh gods, he was going in circles.

The repetitive action of his left arm and the ticking along of his stride had taken him up the hill and along the ridge line. He came back to the present with two heavily panting dogs at his feet and the wide, level Rhovanion valley sprawling below. Dale lay before him; terracotta roofs spotted with greying snow, spire and towers of the old market town rising out of the twisting, confused streets. The River Running glistened silver in the dying light, winding through the town and on towards Long Lake. Bard could just make of the twisting wreaths of smoke rising from Lake-Town's chimneys.

Bard found this gaze sliding west. The thick band of the Green Wood lay dark and low, bare of leaves but still oppressive to look at. Somewhere, in that suffocating forest, in a suffocating house, Thranduil was most likely sat, barely breathing.

Bard looked down at the two dogs at his feet. Thorin's tongue still lolled, his breath misting in the air. Bilbo was beside him, an errant twig or two still snarled in his coat.

"C'mon lads," Bard murmured to the pair. "Let's head back. I've still got no answers. We'll let Balin know on Monday and close the enquiry."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Present for you."

Bard nearly knocked his mug of tea flying as a Manila file landed on the keyboard. He set a hand over his rabbiting heart and glared up at Hilda-Bianca. She didn't seemed cowed in the slightest, just one well-groomed eyebrow creeping towards the edge of her blue beanie.

"It's the Green case," she said with an explanatory shrug. "Received a call this morning. Got a few more bits and pieces and Betsy's drafting up the medical referral letter as we speak."

"What!?" Bard looked from her, to the file, back to her and then finally to Thorin for moral support. His tail tick-ticked but beyond that, he had no help for Bard. Bard flicked the file open. There was his interview notes, a hard copy of the initial enquiry in Sigrid's neat hand and a fresh, new sheet complete with medical and doctor's surgery details. "OK, explanation please?"

H.B. smiled ruefully and propped a hip on the desktop. "Betsy got a call through, pretty much first thing, from a Tauriel. She asked to be put through to you but you weren't in yet. Then she asked for Sigrid." She shrugged again. "Apparently she made an impression. Anyway, Betsy popped her through to me and turns out she wanted to apologise for the 'fiasco that was Friday'." She made air quotes as she spoke. "Asks if there any chance that Mr Green's enquiry could be considered serious and if they could proceed."

"Again I say, what!?"

"What exactly happened in the interview anyway?"

Bard's breath left him in a few strangled croaks and a drawn out groan as he searched for a way to eloquently explained what had happened. His waved a hand listlessly. "It..... It happened?"

The eyebrow rose further.

"I got near nothing from him. He didn't seem interested at all!" Bard leafed through the fresh batch of notes. "What happened? I was ready to close the enquiry."

H.B. smirked and shifted her weight back onto both feet, crossing her arms. "Apparently the girl put in a call to Gandalf."

"Ah." Bard couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face. "Good... I had hoped."

"Meddler," she cuffed him smartly on the back of the head but her words were fond. "Oh, and there was a slight condition on the matter."

"Huh?"

"Green's agreed but he'll only work with you."

"What?" Bard could feel the word growing old on him.

"Yeah. Just you."

"But... Surely Balin'll be involved? What about when it comes to matching, one of the lads is going to need to come round." Bard stood up and followed H.B. out of the hot desk room as she left smirking. She abandoned him on the landing and headed down the stairs as he called imploringly after her. "What if I get ill or something? He can't make these sorts of demands!"

"Sorry, Bard," she called back, laughing at him and already disappearing towards the back office. "Maybe you already know too much!"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Right, do we have provisions?"

"Yes sir!"

"Is the perimeter secured?"

"Yes sir!"

"Time?"

"21 hundred sir!"

"Excellent. Let us set up the harbour area."

Tilda giggled and dove under the kitchen table, arms full of soft throws and blankets, as Bard throw an old thick blanket over the top. It was the blanket that usually lined the boot of the car. It smelled strongly of dog and a fine rain of dog hair sprinkled down onto the kitchen tiles.

"Da, you didn't shake it out!" Tilda squealed. Bilbo nosed the curtain of thick wool aside and trotted in, looking for the source of the giggles.

"Well, I didn't want to get it wet now did I?" Bard replied loftily, raising his voice over the last of the rain which was beating against the windows. He turned to Sigrid and Bain who were standing with their own armfuls of soft furnishings and supplies. "Alright, positions you two."

Bain hunkered down and crawled in after the other two, shuffling around to start laying down cushions and general start nesting. Sigrid took a tiny set of iPod speakers and settled her iPod into them, both well-worn handy-downs from Fili and Kili, and ticked through it before selecting what Bard knew would be her warm down playlist. When the gentle strains of Ludovico Einaudi's ‘The Waves’ started to fill the kitchen, she picked up her travel mug of tea and shuffled under the table as well.

"All settled?" Bard leaned down and tweaked a corner of the blanket aside. The three at the centre of his universe grinned back at him, all in comfy kit and getting ready to settle in for the night. Bilbo had already plonked himself into Sigrid's lap. She was sat holding her mug away from herself with a look of exasperation.

"I think we are all set Da, send him in and we'll get him comfortable."

Bard flipped the blanket up so one side of the table was uncovered and lay a second blanket over the first, filling in any unintended holes in the makeshift tent. He turned to find Thorin in the doorway. The great dog was panting heavily, his head low and his legs splayed wide, bracing himself in the doorway to the hall. His tail wasn't quiet between his legs, but it was thinking about.

Despite the rain that had plagued them most of the day, people had still been letting off fireworks. An early volley of bangs and squeals had bounced around the streets and the smell of sulphur and wood-smoke was already chasing out the smell of damp concrete, as well as Thorin's calm.

Bard hunkered down in from of Thorin, rubbing his ears between fingers and thumb. Thorin rumbled unhappily and butted his head into Bard's chest. "I know old boy, I know." Bard said softly. "It's not nice is it, no. You gonna come under the table though? Safe there."

A neighbour a few doors down choose this moment to set off a small rocket or two and Thorin tensed under Bard's hands. Bilbo whined from under the table. Thorin blinked and his head came up, tension slipping from fear to worry. He padded into the kitchen and under the table. Bard could see him fussing over Bilbo. Bilbo responded by nudging up into Thorin's attentions and wiggling for all he was worth. Bard could hear Sigrid cursing. He grinned to himself and grabbed his own mug of tea before sliding into their blanket bunker and tweaking the curtain down.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm going out for a top up, anyone else want anything?" Bain held up metal dog bowl and his own mug. "They've drunk it dry."

Tilda stirred from her spot in Bard's lap and held out her own mug, David Tennant and Freema Agyeman in pride of place. "Can I have another hot chocolate please?" She frown a second before looking up to turn liquid eyes on Bard. "Please?"

Bard wasn't sure why he tried to stand firm in the face of those puppy dog eyes anymore. For one, there wasn't really a problem with her having another hot chocolate. And he worked with actual puppy dogs, he ought to be immune to this by now. But no. Tilda had only been a babe when Bard had first started working for Guide Dogs and she had quickly learnt a few tricks off some of his furrier colleagues.

He sighed and nodded. She smiled, a little sleepily and turned back to her brother. "Please."

Bain watched the whole thing with an unimpressed expression. There was a silent "Da, really?" in the air but he didn't voice anything. He looked to Sigrid, who just shook her head, mug still half full.

"Back in a tic," he sighed and edged around Thorin to slide out under the blanket. Thorin grumbled a little at the movement but soon settled himself onto a cooler patch of tiles. As Bain shuffled around the kitchen, tap running and kettle bubbling, Tilda's head lolled on Bard's shoulder. She yawned widely, trying to stifle it with both hands.

"Alright," Bard said, "her Highness is flagging. Once Bain's back in, it's New Year's resolutions whilst we're all still awake."

"I'm alright," Tilda grumbled.

"Well, with the sugar rush due in a few minutes, I don't doubt that."

A few minutes later Bain returned, two mugs in one hand and the dog water bowl in the other. He set the bowl down in one corner and huffed as Thorin immediately stuck his nose in it. He settled into his own corner, passing Tilda's mug to Sigrid to pass along. Tilda gasped in delight when she saw her hot chocolate came complete with whipped cream and marshmallows. Bard raised an eyebrow at Bain, who ignored it. Sigrid just rolled her eyes.

"OK, New Year's resolutions. Umm, better start with you Bain." Traditionally, Tilda started the New Year's resolutions, but she'd tucked into her mug in the same manner Thorin had into his bowl.

"Ah, OK, umm... Survive GCSEs, that would be nice. Beat Gunabad Grammar School at least once either this season or next," Bard noticed how Bain rubbed unconsciously at his jaw. "Umm... Not sure what else, umm..."

"Talk to a girl with tripping over your own tongue?"

Bain glared at Sigrid and pointed a shrewd finger at her. "Not that, on some level, I don't agree, I'm just going to say glass houses and Fili shaped stones."

Sigrid went scarlet.

"My turn!" Tilda's hand went up and nearly clipped Bard in the face in her haste to play peace maker. "I want to try for school choir, for us to collect for 'Name A Puppy' on time and to beat up Lily Ashman!"

"Tilda," Sigrid said in warning, "remember what Dis said on the matter?"

Tilda straightened and put on her best 'Dis-and-this-mama-don't-raise-no-fools' voice. "Don't beat them up, just plain beat'em!"

Bard let his head thunk against the table leg at his back. "That one still causing trouble?" Bard had received a phone call from a teacher a month or so back, telling him Tilda had been in an altercation. Turned out this Lily girl had been sneering and laughing at one of the stockier girls in the class to the point where the poor girl had been in tears. Tilda hadn't approved of this. She'd bitten her.

Of course Bard had only gotten the full story when the bullied girl's mother had come over to talk to him and thank Tilda in a 'I approve of your morals even if the execution was unorthodox' manner a few days later. The teacher on the phone had just demanded he come collect his rabid daughter. He hadn't been able to, over in Hobbiton as he was. Fili and Kili had collected her. Apparently, when they heard the story, they took her out for cake and tea.

"OK champ, OK. Just no more run ins with the teachers, promise?" Bard dropped a kiss onto her curly head when she nodded emphatically. "Good, no surprises too early in the year please. Sigrid? Got any plans?"

Sigrid shuffled round, getting up from where she was laying on her stomach scribbling in an uni note book. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs, chin propped on her knees. "I would like to second Bain's wish and survive first year of occupational therapy please. Erm, I'm maybe looking at trying my hand at directing next semester? The theatre society are looking to do 'Neverwhere', but they are all arguing about how to set it on stage, but there's a big, old Valariam church in the town, and I was thinking stage it in there with the audience being shepherded-". She broke off when she noted all the faces in front of her; furry, none, and her father somewhere in between, were all wearing the same blank look. She sighed. "I'd like to try directing," she said, "and... Umm..."

"Would like to convince Fili that you are not in fact the little sister he always wanted and to take you out for a drink?" Bain offered.

Sigrid threw a pillow in his face. "Not funny Bain," she muttered miserably. "No, stop it, the age gaps too big. This stupid crush will go away eventually. He's being really sweet about it, don't make it anymore awkward than I've already done."

"Right, right sorry. Da? Your turn."

"OK," Bard shuffled in his spot and pursed his lips in his best 'thinking face', Tilda giggled. "I want to see you three happy and healthy, and you two as well I suppose," he added, nudging Bilbo with a toe where the little dog lay in the manner of little dogs everywhere; taking up more space then should be possible with their tiny frames. "I want to see the back of this bloody Fun Day in September," there was a murmur of agreement. Fundraising days were always good for raising awareness and, well, funds, but they usually came at the cost of the office team going a few weeks on no real sleep and an ulcer or two. "And... ah..." Unbidden, Bard's mind wandered up an set of carved oak stairs, no barriers to either side.

"And get yourself a date?" Sigrid added in resignation. "Look at us! A family of dateless losers!" She spread her arms wide. "I love you losers," she continued as Bard's minded scrambled around in confused panic, "but you know it's bad when the dogs have a better love life then you." Bain saluted her with his mug.

"We are dateless losers!", agreed Tilda. In truth, she had a small troop of lads at school who were starry eyed over her, it's just she either didn't know or didn't care.

Bard blinked hard, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "I was going to say, I want to try and help as many people as I can this coming year. I think there may be a tough case or two coming and I want to help as best I can."

"Da, you sound like a Miss World contestant."

Bain got his second pillow to the face of the evening. "Doesn't stop it being true."

Tilda's giggle was cut short as she yawned again.

"OK," Bard grunted, hooking Tilda under the arms and lifting her onto her feet. "You, Madame, are getting sleepy. Go fetch you book and I'll read to you for a bit."

"We finished The Butterfly Lion last night remember? So Sigrid took me to the library this morning and I picked out something new." She tottered away, her socked feet slipping a little on the tiles. Thorin sat up and rumbled in alarm as he watched her go. Bain settled a hand in his ruff. "S'alright boy. She'll be back in a minute."

"Are you alright Da?" Sigrid asked. She was looking at him oddly, concerned but her eyes were narrowed as if she was calculating.

He frowned a little at her. "Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"It's nothing," she said, shaking her head. "We just kinda lost you for a moment there." When his frown deepened she carried on. "During your resolutions, before I made the date comment. You wandered a bit."

"Oh! Oh, umm, sorry."

"It's alright, you sure you're OK?"

"Yup, yup I'm fine."

Sigrid seemed satisfied with that when Tilda reappeared under the table, a book in its' crinkled plastic protective cover in her hands. "This it? Alright let's take a looksie." The end of Bard's sentence was lost in a suddenly shrill scream and bang. Thorin yelped and tried to scrabble to his feet, even as the noise of another firework taking flight sent him flinching sideways. Bilbo lifted his head up and yapped in worry. Another volley of bangs sounded outside and Thorin's old legs gave out underneath him.

Bain lunged forwards and wrapped his arms around Thorin's neck, pressing himself up against his flank as Bilbo scurried over to nose and lick at Thorin's muzzle. "It's OK old boy, it's OK. You're safe, we're safe, we've got you. You're OK." Bain's litany didn't stop as he worked his hands into Thorin's ruff, stroking and occasionally reaching to pet his ears. Thorin panted and whined but eventually seem to come back to himself. Sigrid reached out and place a hand over one huge paw. Bilbo backed off a little, inquisitive squeaks answered by tired rumbles. He resumed his position in front of Bard and Tilda, eyes bright and expectant as clearly waiting for a good story. Bard smiled at him slightly before twisting to look at the heap at the other end of the table.

"Well done Bain, you alright over there?”

"Yeah, we're fine. Probably going to need another water run soon though." Thorin was still but he was panting again.

"OK, right Princess shall we start on this?" He flipped the book over and skimmed the back cover.

"What is it?" Bain asked Sigrid.

"Adventure fantasy as far as I could tell," Sigrid said off hand. "Just as long as there's no romance."

"I think we should be clear of romance on this one." Bard said as he continued to scrutinise the cover. "Yup, no love stories here."

"Good."

"Right, let's get started and find out what Mister.... What? Sigrid how on earth do you pronounce that name."

"Toll - keen."

"Huh, OK." Bard cracked the book open, settling it on Tilda's knees so she could follow along as he read. "Chapter One, An Unexpected Party."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day's rain clouds had dispersed and had left a night's sky pin-pricked with stars. The crescent moon gleamed in the still air, its light picking at the frost that was already clinging to the landscape.

All of this was lost on Thranduil.

He'd dismissed Tauriel hours ago and she'd left, but not before wishing him a happy new year. Her voice had been different these last few days. Stronger and steadier. They'd not spoken about the... incident that had transpired during Fletcher's visit. There wasn't any real need to; they rarely spoke anymore, beyond what was necessary. She hadn't told of her phone call the Fletcher's people or to Doctor Grey until the handset was shoved under his chin.

She'd set the board, to be honest, and now the pieces were moving.

"Happy New Year..." he breathed into the empty room.

He was in his throne once more, turned to the window, the moonlight through the window casting knurled and spindly shadows across the floor. Thranduil was sat leaning all his weight against the glass, the coldness seeping into the skin of the left hand side of his face and neck. His left arm lay along the window sill, the grey cashmere of his sleeve protecting him from zany more of the chill. He idly twirled at wine glass stem between his fingers. An excellent vintage this one, 1937. It was one of the last bottles of it he had. They'd been a gift from his father on his wedding day.

It would be the last he'd drink of it. One way or the other.

Thranduil flinched at the sudden scream and squeal of fireworks taking flight, the glass skittering against its own reflection. Distantly, he could hear the sounding of midnight.

He steadied his grip on his glass and raised his arm a little. He still twitched with every new shriek and bang as a rocket painted the sky, but his arm was steady.

"Happy New Year Legolas, my little leaf." Thranduil clinked his glass to the window pane, toasting it to its own reflection before swallowing a mouthful down a tight throat. He could barely taste the vintage around the weight of his own tongue. "Happy New Year Hurdis," he whispered thickly and took another graceless chug. "My love. Happy New Year."

The mercifully empty glass slipped from his fingers, bouncing gentle into the plush carpet as Thranduil listed sideways again, empty hands over his empty eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please go and visit Laura aka Carnivaluate's tumblr and see the amazing illistration she did for the last part of this chapter. And thank God she did because it was the kick up the arse I needed to keep writing.  
> http://carnivaluate.tumblr.com/post/117269128491/two-illustrations-for-the-first-part-of
> 
> New Year's Eve and Bonfire Night can be very, very stressful for dogs. If you have a dog who is scared of fireworks or loud noises there are steps you can ake to try and make them as comfortable as possible. For this chapter, I drew from the Kennel Club's website; http://www.thekennelclub.org.uk/our-resources/kennel-club-campaigns/fireworks/. They have some good tips and pointers for the stressful time of the year.

**Author's Note:**

> One last thing - I used to work for Guide Dogs and I will be drawing from that experience a lot in this piece but I am in no way an expert. I am not a guide dog owner, I am not visually impaired myself. I appreciate that I am most likely going to get things wrong or inaccurate. I mean no disrespect, I promise you, and if I do get anything wrong, please tell me and I will do what I can to fix it. Please don't use this as an accurate guide for the guide dog application and training process. I was admin, I saw it all from behind a desk and every team works differently. Also, I am taking massive liberties with the time frame, this is not an accurate guide.
> 
> Much love, flandersmare. xxx


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